Eternity
by Kavindra Miette
Summary: Chlorr has returned, and she craves revenge as well as absolute power. Taking Sam, Nick, and Lirael as her prisoners, Chlorr begins to set her plan in motion, but what she doesn't know is that there's a determined young necromancer after her. Chp. 6 up!
1. Prologue Epilogue

Ok, so I'm very bored and desperately want to write about something. So, I'll use Garth Nix's Old Kingdom Trilogy as a springboard. I certainly enjoyed the mysterious and poetic ending of Abhorsen, but I hated the cliffhanger. I think I'll continue that aspect of the story; the aftermath of the Destroyers' binding. And now, the traditional and respectful disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, places, and/or other fictional counterparts found in the original stories, although I own the plot for my work. This is just my humble interpretation of how things might have gone if Garth Nix (now one of my favorite authors) continued the story. Well, now that that's done, may I present.  
  
Story Summary: Several years after the Binding of the Destroyer, peace has returned to the Old Kingdom, Ancelstierre, and the Southern Countries. It is soon shattered when Chlorr, assistant of the long-deceased Hedge, comes back to the living world, along with an army of allied Greater Dead. She wants revenge for the death of her employer and her ultimate chieftain. Storming Belisaere, Chlorr takes the Abhorsen-in-Waitng and her two fellow companions prisoner (in other, simpler words, Sam, Nick, and Lirael), slowly excreting her vengeance upon them while planning out a complete take over of the Old Kingdom. The true Abhorsen was seriously injured in the invasion, and now the people of the Kingdom must rely on someone else who has the ability to wield the famed bells. A young, powerful, and dangerous Necromancer named Erithae. But a Necromancer is a perilous person to entrust the fate of an empire with, especially if you don't know whether they're good.or evil. Also includes a short prologue-beginning sort of thing, which is my take on the happenings directly after the binding of Orannis. I hope you enjoy my story, and please review it once you're finished. Thanks!  
  
~Kavindra  
  
Prologue  
  
Lirael hardly noticed Sam leaving her side, racing up the hill towards something that did not concern her. She was lost in her own world, clutching the small soapstone statue of the Dog to her chest, trying to feel fur, or the warm sense of Charter magic under the skin, things that had been there only moments before. And never would be again. Tears gushed out of Lirael's eyes, dripping down onto the miniature Dog and the charred remains of her left/right hand. She knew it was useless to cry, to weep for something that was gone forever, but she could not suppress the sorrow. Lirael bowed her head, and let her singed hair fall into her wet and hopeless face. For a moment, she was once more a Second-Assistant Librarian who barely let a sentence pass her lips. Once more a shy, reclusive girl who hid behind her hair. She hugged the statue of the Dog tighter. So much had changed. So very much. Lirael looked up. She was the last of a weary procession, picking its way up the hill. They were almost to the top, and Lirael could see Sam quite clearly. And he was embracing Nicholas. Lirael froze. It wasn't possible. Nick was dead. Probably at least at the Sixth Gate. And he wasn't a Charter mage. There was no way that it really could be Nick up there. Absolutely no way. Lirael thought for a moment, until a sudden spark entered her mind. She glanced down at the Dog she held in her hands. It stared back; somehow possessing unfathomable knowledge in those carved stone eyes. Lirael looked up at Nick, and then back at the Dog. She did this several times, the connection becoming clearer with each motion. With the faintest traces of a watery smile, she held the Dog up so it was level with her face.  
  
"Thank you, Dog," she whispered, a sob distorting her voice "Thank you."  
  
Sam could hardly believe his luck. His parents, who he believed to be assassinated, were alive and unharmed. Then Lirael, who should have lost her life during the Binding of the Destroyer, went against all fate and survived. And Nick, who technically did die, had somehow been reincarnated. Maybe this was some sort of sign, Sam thought as he hugged Nick, none too lightly. Maybe he was meant to have fortune like this the rest of his life. There was a rather loud grunt, and Sam immediately pulled away from the embrace.  
  
"Thanks for that," said Nick, clearly relieved, "Thought you were going to suffocate me there for a moment. Don't want me dying again."  
  
Sam shook his head.  
  
"Nick, if you're going to die for a second time, I'm not going to be the one who kills you. You can be absolutely sure of that."  
  
"Well, at least that's encouraging," Nick gave Sam a weak grin, which faded almost immediately. "There's probably.probably a very large chance that I'll die of malnutrition or.or internal bleeding or something in the next week. I didn't come out of this unscathed, Sam."  
  
Sam nodded automatically.  
  
"I know that. I know that very well. But we have magic here. Magic, Nick. Charter Magic. Healing spells. You'll be fine once all that Free Magic wears off," Sam stopped talking once he saw the strange look on Nicks' face. He paused for a moment, and then groaned.  
  
"Please don't tell me you still have a scientific explanation for all this. You can't. After all this, you just can't."  
  
Nick sighed.  
  
"Not to worry. I'm not as firm a believer in science as I once was. I now officially accept magic." He glanced at Sam "I suppose I don't really have a choice, if you know what I mean. For one to die and then come back to the living world completely erases all my doubts."  
  
He looked down the hill. Directly at Lirael, who was still climbing.  
  
"It wasn't me, Sam." Nick said quietly, his eyes fixed on the Abhorsen-in- Waiting "It was her dog. Her dog sent me back. Told me to go back into Life. She also gave me this."  
  
He brushed back a piece of hair, and revealed a Charter mark over his right eye. He ignored Sam's gaping stare and continued.  
  
"She, the dog, I mean, said it was to balance out the Free Magic that was left over from.you know." Nick turned towards Sam.  
  
"I.I don't know what much of that means, actually," he said sheepishly, "If you could provide some assistance in that area."  
  
"Oh, um, right." Sam blinked a few times and ran his fingers through his hair. "Amazing. Nicholas Sayre, a Charter Mage. I can't believe this." He smiled "I just can't believe this."  
  
"Well it's absolutely true," said Nick, sounding impatient. It appeared he had forgotten about his recent death premonition. "And I'm still absolutely clueless. Really, Sam, get on with it."  
  
"I'm not sure if now is exactly the best time," Sam said, looking around. "There's a lot to explain. It's.it's better if you're sitting down."  
  
"Can't you just do an example or something?" asked Nick desperately "You don't even have to tell me what you're doing. I'll just be a simplistic spectator."  
  
"Oh all right. What do you want to see?"  
  
Nick thought for a moment, and then blurted out,  
  
"How about a fireball?"  
  
Sam was glad Nick's request had been so simple. He found the marks he needed, and let the spell blossom in his hand.  
  
"Astonishing!" said Nick, examining the tiny fireball floating around near Sam's palm. "Can it burn anything?"  
  
"Yes, but I'm not going to try it here." Said Sam, wrapping his hand around the flame. It silently extinguished.  
  
"To think I'll be learning how to do that," said Nick with giddy excitement "It's just so strange, to be accepting something you shunned all your life. It's just.strange."  
  
He grew quiet for a moment, and then spoke again.  
  
"Why do you think the Dog gave me this, Sam?" Nick pointed to the new Charter mark on his forehead. Sam shrugged.  
  
"You've answered that question yourself. You said it was there to help even out the Free Magic that's inside of you."  
  
Nick shook his head.  
  
"No, no. I meant to say, why did the Dog send me back? Why didn't she just let me die? Weren't there others who lost their lives in this struggle? Why aren't they coming back to life. I don't understand. There has to be a reason, but what is it?"  
  
He was about to say something more, but several Army vehicles had pulled up on the nearby road. Sam could see Major Greene and his small band of remaining soldiers ushering everyone towards them. Nick turned away from Sam and started to make his way towards the trucks. Sanar and Ryelle immediately came over to help him, which made Sam realize he had completely forgotten about Lirael. As he rushed over to where she was still struggling up the hill, Sam begin to wonder about what Nick had said. Why had the Dog sent him back? There were always deeper meanings to things with those magical talking animals. But nothing seemed particularly special about sending a young man back from Death. He had been undeserving of his passing, certainly, but so had many other innocents who had died at the hand of the Destroyer. Southerlings. Soldiers. Workers at the Lightning Farm. As Sam gently put his arm around Liraels' quivering shoulders, he could only see one potential reason, and it was rather obvious. Perhaps the Dog had sent Nick back as a replacement. A replacement companion to Lirael.  
  
  
  
The Ancelstirerran Army had set up a mass of tents a few miles east of the hemispheres' location. It was meant as temporary shelter for the Southerlings, but Major Greene had extended his hospitality everyone involved with the Binding. At the heart of the compound, a massive bonfire was lit. Southerlings danced uproariously around it, and occasionally a soldier or two would join in. They all knew something important had happened, a victory of some sort, and they were celebrating, but they knew almost none of the details. It didn't concern them.  
  
Sam bumped into Nick outside the ring of festivities. Apparently being dangerously frail hadn't stopped him from exploring. He was leaning on a rather oversized pole, and Sam thought he could see a partly collapsed tent in the background. Typical Nick, he thought to himself with a grin. Recovery had come sooner than he had expected.  
  
"So, where are you headed?" Sam said, gesturing towards the pole.  
  
"Oh," Nick drummed his fingers on the wood "I was looking for Lirael. I want to thank her, and tell her it's all her Dog's fault I'm still here to annoy you." Nick evidently thought this was funny, but Sam overlooked the sarcasm.  
  
"You won't really say that, will you?"  
  
Nick gave Sam a look.  
  
"Of course I won't, you ninny. I just wanted to say a nice, formal, thank you, if you know what I'm talking about. I'm not going to go and offend her, because that really was a very nice thing for that Dog to do." He shot another glance at Sam, "A very nice thing."  
  
He sighed.  
  
"I suppose I shouldn't be making jokes about it, hmm?"  
  
Sam shook his head, and suddenly appeared to have remembered something important.  
  
"It's fine, really. But Nick, I was thinking about what you said, about why the Dog sent you back? Well, I think I might have at least an idea. It could be completely wrong, but it's a theory, and theories are wrong all the time."  
  
Sam stopped for a moment, and then plunged into his assumption.  
  
"I think that maybe the Dog sent you back as a sort of.replacement companion to Lirael."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Listen, Nick, you have no idea how close Lirael was to this Dog. She told me it was the only pers- well, thing she ever talked to when she was at the Clayrs' Glacier. That was where Lirael lived before she met up with me," Sam added in response to the blank look on Nicks' face " But that loss.it would be crushing for her. So my idea is that the Dog, knowing how awful the pain would be, sent you back to ease it. You knew Lirael a bit, she was obviously very upset having to let you die, and you were only at the First Gate, making you the perfect contender. It makes sense."  
  
Nick didn't say anything. He appeared to be thinking deeply, staring down at his feet.  
  
"You know, Sam," he said, bringing his head up, "That's perfectly logical."  
  
There was a pause.  
  
"Err, do have any idea of where Lirael actually is?"  
  
Sam pointed up towards the top of a hill, far away form the merriment and celebration of the camp.  
  
"Over there. I can't really blame her for wanting to be alone."  
  
Then, cracking the serious atmosphere, he said with a smirk,  
  
"Of course, she doesn't have to be alone, as long as she has you, Nick."  
  
Nick grimaced in disgust as he realized what Sam was getting at.  
  
"And you thought I was the one making bad jokes? Really, Sam! I'm not planning on.on a blossoming romance or anything of the sort. Just a sincere thank-you. That's all. That's all!"  
  
Sam raised his considerable eyebrows.  
  
"Whatever you say, Nicholas. But I could definitely see it. You and Lir-"  
  
"Stop it NOW, Sam!" thundered Nick, a surprisingly loud voice coming out of his feeble body. He stormed off as fast as he could mange. Sam could have easily caught up with him, but he stayed where he was, smiling to himself. His last words had been truthful. Lirael and Nick was a rather odd, but somehow perfect match. Neither of them had ever had any romantic experience with the opposite gender, although Nick had desperately tried. Sam was well aware that maybe they never would fall in love, but he was absolutely sure of one thing. Nick and Lirael were kindred spirits. Saddened, agonized souls that could flow into one another, slowly choking out the darkness.  
  
  
  
Lirael sat in the grass at the very edge of the cliff, the statuette of the Dog propped up between her knees. She would run her hand over it every once in a while, feeling the smooth, cool surface of the soapstone, and trying to feel the Charter magic she knew was buried deep inside. She had no success. Tears began to pour from Lirael's eyes. She buried her face in her remaining hand, trying to stifle the sobs, afraid that someone might hear and come to offer pity. She didn't need pity. Lirael gripped the statue tighter, and at the same time, felt a hand on her shoulder. A timid, light touch. She whirled around, reaching for her sword, only to find an embarrassed and slightly startled Nick, who had obviously jumped back several inches. Nothing happened for a few seconds, then Nick began to mumble out an apology while Lirael desperately scrubbed at her eyes.  
  
"I'm.err.sorry to have..have interrupted your.uh..cry, and, um, I can leave if-"  
  
Lirael stopped rubbing.  
  
"No," she said quietly, barely above a whisper, "It's.all right. I just wasn't.. expecting anyone."  
  
"Oh, well, why should you be?" Nick said, giving a half-hearted attempt at humor. Lirael didn't smile. She silently turned away.  
  
"I came to thank you." Said Nick, taking a step closer.  
  
"Thank me?"  
  
Nick nodded as he seated himself besides Lirael. He picked up a blade of grass and absentmindedly twirled it around in his hands.  
  
"I owe you my life, Lirael."  
  
Lirael stared at him. He was concentrating on the grass.  
  
"Your.your life?" she asked hesitantly, not exactly sure what he meant. "I'm really not sure if I saved your life or n-"  
  
"Your Dog." He still wasn't looking at her. "It was your Dog who brought me back. But." he faltered, "But it wasn't the Dog.You.I.I thought of you, and the boat. And everything you said to me there, whenever I could feel the Destroyer.and.and.oh, what am I saying." he trailed off. However, Lirael's interest had been sparked.  
  
"It was the Dog who sent you back?" she said, still very quiet. Nick looked up, his eyes directly meeting hers for the first time.  
  
"Is that what you thought?'  
  
Lirael nodded.  
  
"Brilliant deduction," he said, sounding impressed, "Brilliant deduction."  
  
"Oh, I.I wouldn't call it that," Lirael said, feeling the blush spread across her face, "Dog hated to see people die.and.and you really didn't deserve to and she must have thought that.that since you were only at the First Gate and your body was still around she could send you back without any trouble. And.that's just what I thought because it." she stopped, and then finished her sentence in a sob-choked voice. '"It just seemed like something Dog would do."  
  
Lirael broke into tears once again, hugging the statue. Nick, rather unsure of what to do, gingerly put his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Do you know what the Dog said to me?" he whispered, trying to comfort Lirael, When we were at the, err, First Gate? She said that someday, someday you'd be the Abhorsen. Just like Sam's mum. And that you'd be known all over as Lirael Goldenhand, because Sam's going to make you a new hand entirely out of gold. Pure gold. I don't know how that would work, but you know Sam, he's wonderful with those sorts of things. And." he struggled for things to say. Suddenly he remembered.  
  
"I was talking to Sam," Nick gripped Lirael by both shoulders, gently forcing her to look at him, "I asked him why the Dog had brought me back. Because, other than out of kindness or pity, there's no specific reason, at least that I could see. Sam, though, he has a theory. He thinks that I'm.I'm."  
  
Nick didn't know what to say. He didn't know how Lirael would react to Sam's idea. It would be odd, after all, to have a talking Dog swapped for a reincarnated young man. What would she think? What would she say?  
  
"Yes?" asked Lirael quietly.  
  
Nick decided to take the chance.  
  
"He thinks I'm.I'm a sort of.a replacement. For the Dog. He thinks that the Dog knew how much her passing would affect you, so she sent me back as a new companion."  
  
He looked at Lirael. Her eyes were wide, and glistening with tears.  
  
"No one can be sure if that's true or not, but.I for one think that it makes an astonishing amount of sense."  
  
Nick tenderly took Lirael's remaining hand in both of his.  
  
"I'd be ready to do that, Lirael. To be your companion. Your friend. I. I owe you so much, and you've done so much. it just amazes me. And I think that you really do need someone to.to be there for you.and I would be more than willing to be that person. But if you don't want that, then that's perfectly fine. It's your decision, Lirael. Either you want a replacement Dog or you don't."  
  
Lirael only had to look into Nicks' riveting, tortured blue eyes to see that he meant what he was saying. Truly, deeply meant it. She felt another wave of tears behind her eyes, felt them stream down her face. The next thing she knew was weeping into Nick's shoulder, still holding the Dog. She felt him tense, hesitate almost, and then he slowly let go of her hand and put his arms around her, holding her close.  
  
Lirael felt gratitude replace sorrow as soon as Nick embraced her. He was doing this because he saw her pain. He was ignoring his own. Knowing her emotions could never truly be expressed in words, Lirael chose the most subtle and immediate way she could show them. She gently slipped her arms out from under Nick's, and hugged him back. 


	2. Word of a Tragedy

Eternity  
  
Three years later.  
  
Erithae quickly redid the spell of invisibility on her bells. They were already hidden (and invisible), but it was just an extra precaution. What was a necromancer without her prime tools, anyway? After closing the lid of the basket, Erithae stepped out of the dark alleyway. Good. No one had seen her, and no one suspected anything. People feared necromancers, even if they hadn't committed any crimes against humanity. They had been afraid before, but it had worsened after that whole Destroyer incident. Organized by a necromancer. Erithae, of course, didn't understand how people could dread necromancers, and then worship the Abhorsen. In all technicality, the Abhorsen was a necromancer. What was the difference? Erithae pondered the question as she entered the local tavern.  
  
"Did ya 'eer 'bout wot 'appened down in Belisaere?" said a burly man to the bartender. "It's awfool, it is."  
  
"Yah, I've 'erd a few things, but I'm not quite sure o' the full story. Oy, there's Hupert. I 'spose he kin tell us a thing or two."  
  
Erithae sipped on her cup of mead as she watched a tall soldier sit down next to the burly man. She was interested, to be sure. She hadn't heard anything about a catastrophe in Belisaere. That was the price of traveling around; you were always a little behind on the news.  
  
"Well, Hupert," said the bartender, "Wot can ya tell us about that whole Belisaere thing that's goin' 'round? I've 'erd bits of it, but I ain't believin' it yet."  
  
"Gentleman," said Hupert, sounding starkly different with his refined manner of speech, "Probably most any rumor you've heard is true. It seems like a lie, I know, but as a member of the Palace Guard, I'm very close to these sorts of matters, and I can assure you it is not imaginary by any means. My associate and close friend sent me some Charter photographs the other day. The palace is an absolute wreck, and the main street of the city has been almost entirely destroyed." He sighed. "It's awful."  
  
"Is it true wot they say," the burly man said darkly, "About that necromancer who invaded the city takin' prisoners? And it bein' involved with the Destroyer when 'ee was still around?"  
  
Hupert nodded.  
  
"Yes, Rote, all of that is true. The necromancer is Chlorr of the Mask; at least that's what most sources say. She was closely involved with the unleashing of the Destroyer, but for some reason she was never taken care of properly. A very unwise choice, in my opinion. But as for the prisoners, Charter save them."  
  
"'Oo are they?" asked the bartender, filling up a glass with brandy.  
  
"The Prince, his close friend, and the Abhorsen-in-Waiting." Said Hupert gravely. "All so young, too. Many people believe that Chlorr wants revenge. The Abhorsen-in-Waiting vanquished her master, and the other two helped, after all. There are multiple search parties after them, but they can't find a trace. Not even footprints. It's odd, because Chlorr stormed Belisaere with a giant army of Dead creatures. And Dead leave more than footprints behind."  
  
Erithae was hanging on every word.  
  
"But wot 'bout the real Abhorsen?" asked Rote "I'd bet lots that Chlorrs' no match fer 'er."  
  
"Injured," said Hupert, shaking his head "Terribly injured. The King is devastated. His son and his wife are both in perilous dilemmas, and there isn't much he can do about it. But he's trying. Trying as hard as he can. Though." he paused. "I don't think he's going about it the right way."  
  
"Wot's 'ee doin'?"  
  
"He's.he's looking to hire a necromancer to go after the prisoners."  
  
Rote and the bartender gaped in disbelief.  
  
"A necromancer? Wot's 'ee thinkin'? That could destroy the kingdom!"  
  
"Chlorr can only be defeated by someone who knows how to deal with the seven bells and Death. Besides the Abhorsen, necromancers are the only people who can do that. I don't agree with the King, but I can see where his logic is coming from."  
  
"But necromancers, they con't be trusted!" cried Rote, slamming his mug on the table.  
  
"Easy, man," growled the bartender. He turned to Hupert. "I 'spose it does make sense, but a necromancer.They're dangerous folk. Free Magic. How could 'ee send one after his son?"  
  
"Desperation," said Hupert "There's no one else to turn to. He's willing to risk many things, even his kingdom for those three prisoners. But I think."  
  
Erithae had heard enough. She left the money on the counter and silently exited the tavern. She would go to Belisaere. Quickly retrieving her invisible bells, Erithae set off to buy a horse. That method of transportation was much faster than walking. 


	3. Escape

The strong current did not bother Chlorr. It could no longer even attempt to drag her into the further realms of Death. If she had had more than an emotionless mask for a face, Chlorr would have been smiling. Her plan had gone smoothly, with only one major problem. What to do with the prisoners' bodies. However, that had been solved with several willing Dead, and so far nothing worse had been brought up. At least, until there was an agonized screech from one of the Shadow Hands. Chlorr whirled around. She saw them run. She saw the Hands go after them. She saw them all disappear into life. Her tiny moment of satisfaction had been completely obliterated. Chlorr bellowed wildly with rage, her entirely inhuman voice echoing out across Death. They would not escape. They would suffer.  
  
The three Dead hands were startled enough to drop the icy corpses they carried as they suddenly burst into life. There was a blast of Charter magic, and then they were gone, tearing through the forest underbrush. It took a moment for the Hands to realize that their captives were getting away. Soon, however, they were chasing them, as more and more Dead streamed forth from Death.  
  
Lirael knew that the Dead were gaining on them. She did not even have to look behind her to know this. Even so, there was still that slight possibility that they could make it to the river. She glanced quickly to both sides. Nick and Sam were still running. Perhaps they had a better chance than she had thought. That notion, however, was shattered when a sudden red glow blasted through the trees. All three of them swung their heads over their shoulders to see what it was. It was the light from blistering, intense flames. Free Magic.  
  
Chlorr.  
  
They raced away faster than they had ever gone before, the heat of the flames at their backs.  
  
  
  
It was Nick who found the boat. They had been wading upstream in the river, with Nick slightly ahead. He couldn't believe their luck when he saw a dock with a perfectly good boat tied to it. He, Lirael and Sam splashed their way over, and then piled in. With a quick Charter spell they were off, skimming their way up the river that was slowly opening up into a lake.  
  
Lirael looked up at the night sky. The stars were gleaming on the humid summer night.  
  
"When do you suppose we'll be back?" she murmured. After their panicked escape, there was barely energy left to speak.  
  
Nick was absentmindedly dragging his hand in the water.  
  
"Oh, I don't know. Maybe in about two days, I'd guess. That's probably how long they had us for."  
  
"And would have had us longer if it hadn't been for Sam," Lirael said, taking her attention off of the sky. "That was some very impressive Charter magic, you know."  
  
Sam smiled and shrugged.  
  
"You could say that. I'm just glad I didn't burn anyone when I used a flame spell to cut through the ropes. Nick, though, we do owe a lot to him. He's the one who kicked the Hand into the fire."  
  
"What was Chlorr doing setting fires with Free magic in the first place?" asked Nick. "In Death, of all places. She was probably afraid we'd get cold, eh?"  
  
Lirael tilted her head.  
  
"You sound like you've lived in the Old Kingdom for all your life," she said, "And yet you had no knowledge of anything barely across the Wall until three years ago. You were pure Ancelstierrean. I find it amusing, especially since you've actually turned out to be a very talented Charter Mage."  
  
Nick shook the extra droplets off of his wet hand.  
  
"Am I a Charter Mage, though? A true one?" he said, more to himself than anything else. "There's Free Magic in whatever I do. And.and I suppose that's why I set so many bushes on fire when we were out practicing, Sam. But I would guess I'm sort of a hyper-powered Charter Mage. Even better if we were to fight Chlorr."  
  
Sam sighed.  
  
"You answered your own question once again, Nick. It will be beneficial to have you on our side if it ever comes down to combat with Chlorr and her little minions. But I think we're actually doing a good job of." he trailed off, his eyes fixed towards the receding shore line. Lirael and Nick followed his gaze. There was a giant mass of Dead on the bank. Arms of rotting flesh or jet- black nothingness reached out for them. Wild, unearthly moans carried across the river. And in the midst of the horde, Chlorr stood, her arms stretched to the sky, her head back. A high-pitched whistle passed from her brazen lips.  
  
"What's she doing?" asked Nick, leaning over the prow.  
  
No one answered him. Lirael and Sam were frozen, looking into the sky above the trees. There was a black, rippling swarm coming towards them.  
  
"Oh." whispered Lirael.  
  
"Please, no." pleaded Sam.  
  
"Gore crows," said Nick in a very small voice. 'Gore crows." 


	4. Terrible Luck

Chapter Three  
  
Erithae was riding full tilt, racing to get to Belisaere. If she could be the one to go on this mission, she could prove to everyone that necromancers were not out to massacre the entire human population. On the contrary, they worked to bring the Dead back, although there was quite a bit of manipulation involved. And even then it wasn't as horrible as so many made it out to be. When she returned the prisoners to a relieved Belisaere, she'd see what they said about necromancers-  
  
Without any sort of warning, Erithae's horse reared back in panic. It whinnied manically and as soon as its hooves touched the ground, it bolted back the way they had come. Erithae, as much as she tried, could do nothing to stop it.  
  
"Stupid animal!" she hissed as she dug her ankles into its sides "Go back!"  
  
The horse didn't heed any of her words.  
  
Practically snarling, Erithae readied a spell. She brushed her fingers against the horses' neck, letting the Free Magic flow from them. The animal skidded to a halt as all of its muscles were immobilized.  
  
Erithae clambered down from is back and looked straight into a bulging, quivering eye. Unable to think of anything better, she muttered,  
  
"Stupid animal."  
  
She turned, and drew her sword. The horse must have sensed something; something bad to cause such a reaction. Erithae decided it could be one of two things: Dead, or Free Magic. Animals hated both of those. That was why the horse had never liked her much in the first place. She sniffed the air. Yes, just barely, there was a faint, metallic tinge on the breeze. There was something stronger, too. Rotting skin. So she had been right. Erithae twirled her sword around skillfully, deciding on what to do. She could ambush whatever lay up ahead, and maybe gain a few new Dead Hands. No, that wasn't a good idea. Jumping out at an unknown opponent was never a smart thing to do. Erithae settled on scouting ahead a bit to see what was there. That made much more sense. Before she put her plan into motion, though, a swarm of gore crows came tearing through the forest. Erithae was shocked. She had not seen them coming, and was not prepared to fight them off. In a last minute defense mechanism, she began to charge up the most powerful spell she knew of, only to realize the crows didn't notice her. They were all going in the same direction. Heading for the same place. This was a sure sign of a necromancer.  
  
Sheathing her sword, Erithae followed close behind the crows. She would see where they were going, and see who was controlling them, without being noticed.  
  
Lirael collapsed onto the floor of the boat. Diamonds of Protection were never easy to cast, even if you had two other people helping. However, they were now safe, as almost nothing could get through the invisible barrier that surrounded them. A few gore crows were demonstrating this by dive- bombing and harmlessly bouncing off.  
  
"They're rather stupid little things, aren't they?" said Nick as he observed one that missed the boat completely and landed in the water. "They can't get it into their tiny little heads that THEY CAN"T GET THROUGH!"  
  
He hollered the last part triumphantly and was about to say something along the lines of 'take that, Chlorr' when Sam clapped his hand over his mouth.  
  
"You're not much smarter than the birds," he growled. "That will just make Chlorr more furious than she already is. Shut up and keep us alive."  
  
Nick let out a muffled grunt.  
  
Lirael, however, had not really noticed the entire episode. She was concentrated on the shore. It was hard to see past all the gore crows, but it looked as if Chlorr was preparing to do something else.  
  
Chlorr lowered her arms. The little brats. They had foiled her gore crow attack. She would have to use more direct methods. Snapping a twig off of a nearby tree, Chlorr began to infuse it with Free Magic. Muttering words only she could hear and understand, Chlorr dipped the twig in the water. It vibrated violently, causing triangular ripples that headed directly towards the boat. Satisfied, Chlorr removed the branch form the water. She'd see how they liked waves.  
  
The boat lurched violently as the second wave hit. Lirael, Sam, and Nick clung to the planks of wood that served as seats.  
  
"Lirael! How strong is this Diamond of Protection?" Sam yelled over another oncoming wall of water.  
  
Lirael shook her head.  
  
"It's breaking. And even if it wasn't, we'd still be able to go through it. It was made in haste. We should have-"  
  
She was interrupted as the third wave broke above them. Small drips of water were beginning to come through, and all three of them were viciously slammed against the wall of the boat.  
  
"It's going to capsize," said Nick, with considerable effort because both Sam and Lirael were on top of him "I know it. Next wave. We should get under the boat when it's upside down so we still have some shelter."  
  
Lirael was working on dislodging her self from the tangle of body parts. She stopped for a moment to agree with Nick.  
  
"You're right. There are still gore crows about, and the waves will keep coming." She looked out over the water. "Here it comes.."  
  
The wave hit.  
  
The boat was overturned.  
  
Lirael was unsure of exactly where she was. She began to grope about, unable to see anything in the dark water. All of a sudden her hands found a pair of legs. She swam upwards, and saw that they belonged to Nick.  
  
"We're under the boat, if you haven't noticed already," he said. He smiled nervously. "I'm glad you made it."  
  
It was awkward silence for a moment, until Lirael asked,  
  
"Where's Sam?"  
  
"Oh, he's probably still underwater. He should pop up in a moment or to, I'd expect."  
  
Another pause.  
  
"We just have the absolute worst luck, don't we?" said Nick, brushing several strands of wet hair out of his eyes.  
  
"You could say that."  
  
Nick was thinking.  
  
"You know, I might be able to create a diversion. Something so that Chlorr temporarily forgets about us and we can swim far enough away so that she won't be able to find us again."  
  
"How would you do that?"  
  
"I'm very good at turning regular objects into flaming balls of destruction. Maybe I could set Chlorr's dress on fire or something," he gave an embarrassed smirk, "That is, if I aimed right."  
  
"Possibly. But I doubt you'll need to. We're safe in the water. Once Sam-"  
  
They both realized it at the same time. Sam wasn't with them, like he should have been several minutes ago. Lirael and Nick dived under, and came up outside of the overturned boat. The sight that met them almost proved Nick's earlier statement. They did have awful luck.  
  
Sam was struggling against an unseen force. It was pulling him to the shore.  
Lirael started to swim out to him, but Nick grabbed her arm.  
  
"No. Look. See how fast the water is moving under the surface? It's a current. Chlorr created it, I'm sure. Sam is caught in it. There's no getting out of a current like that."  
  
Sam was practically on the sand now. Chlorr seized him and pinned his arms behind his back. She forced his head into the water.  
  
"You have decision to make." Chlorr said, her voice carrying out across the water. "He dies if you don't come back to me. Choose."  
She jerked Sam's head up. He gasped and sputtered for breath.  
  
"Go!" he screamed, "Don't worry about what happens to me! Go-"  
  
Chlorr silenced his speech with another dunk.  
  
"Choose."  
  
Nick was chewing his fingernails frantically.  
  
"Damn her! What are we going to do? Sam can't.we can't let him die, Lirael! What about the diversion?"  
  
Lirael bit her lip.  
  
"No. You could harm Sam with the fire. Nick, we have to go back. There's no other way."  
  
"But..there has to be..we can't go back to that..that torture..after escaping.."  
  
"What about Sam, Nick? He'll be killed if we don't!"  
  
"Killed.." he hesitated. "But."  
  
"KILLED, Nick!"  
  
Nick pounded his fist against the side of the boat. He broke down sobbing. Lirael, who was close to tears herself, placed a hand on Nick's shoulder, but he shifted away.  
  
"Fine" he said quietly, edging away from the boat. "Fine. We'll go back. Back to Chlorr to give her whatever it is that she wants from us. But it's not just going to be Sam who loses his life. It will be every single one of us."  
  
Lirael did not know what to say.  
  
Erithae watched the other two come into the shore. The girl, she guessed, was the Abhorsen-in-Waiting. The boy was somewhat of a mystery, though. He wasn't the Prince; that was the other one. He must be the "close friend" she had heard about. Chlorr approached them, towing Sam along with her.  
  
"So, you have made your choice. You are wiser than I might have expected." She snapped her fingers, and several Dead came up to bind their hands.  
  
"I will not, however, tolerate any more escape attempts. They are fruitless efforts. You have no chance."  
  
The faint moonlight reflected off of the bronze of Chlorrs' infamous mask, creating the effect of an evil smile.  
  
"You are mine."  
  
She walked over to the unfamiliar boy, and stopped barley inches away from him. His hair blew gently as she spoke.  
  
"Nicholas." she hissed. "The one who taunted my Gore Crows.I believe you were responsible for injuring one of my Dead Hands. Kicking him into a fire."  
  
The boy, or Nicholas, as Erithae now knew his name, nodded his head nervously.  
  
"He would like to express his feelings towards that episode."  
  
A massive Dead Hand loomed up behind Chlorr. Nick blanched.  
  
"I will allow you to sort this out by yourselves."  
  
The Dead Hand stepped in front of Chlorr. It snarled with horrible pleasure, and then struck Nick with a heavy blow right on his cheekbone. He went flying.  
  
Erithae recoiled as Nicks' body landed near her spot. She could have reached out and touched him, if she had dared. She could hear the Dead cheering; mangled cries that sounded the exact opposite of encouragement. Erithae caught glimpses of the Abhorsen-in-Waiting and of the Prince, who were both seething with repressed anger. Chlorr, like her henchmen, seemed satisfied. She turned. Erithae could hear her muttering words, and saw her slowly remove Astarel from its pouch.  
  
And suddenly she understood.  
  
They had been traveling in Death. That was how they hadn't been detected. It was ingenious.  
  
Chlorr raised the bell above her head. All but three of the Dead closed in around her, groping about to find another to touch. It would keep the army together during the process of being transported.  
  
Nicholas opened his eyes.  
  
Erithae watched the utter astonishment spread across his face as he saw her. Astonishment and hope. He mouthed something to her. She couldn't understand it. He did it again.  
  
"Go to Belisaere. Get help. We're in Death.  
  
She nodded. He gave her a faint grin, and was then roughly dragged away by a Dead Hand.  
  
Erithae left then, running as quietly as she could through the undergrowth. In a short while, she had reached her horse, freed it from its spell, and was on her way once more. Riding faster than the breeze. Somewhere in the distance, Erithae could hear the final mournful echoes of a bell, resonating with sinister malice in the dark of the night.  
  
What will happen next? No one knows, except me, of course ( I have the whole plot line planned out, right up to the end. It's just rather tricky to write. I had quite a few problems with this particular chapter, let me tell you. Thank you so very much for the reviews, suggestions, and positive feedback. Keep sending them! In the meantime, I'll be working on Chapter Four.. 


	5. Belisaere

Chapter Four  
  
"But you don't understand!" pleaded Erithae to the unsympathetic guard. "I have incredibly valuable information! I know where the prisoners are! You must let me see the King!"  
  
The guard snorted.  
  
"The rest of your kind got here first. And I expect you to wait for a chat with the King like the rest of them."  
  
"But, sir, I saw the prisoners. They were inches away form me. The prince, and the other boy, Nicholas, and the Abhorsen in Waiting. They had escaped from Chlorr, but she recaptured them. It was by the river. And there were Gore Crows, and Chlorr made these huge waves and she capsized the boat and- "  
  
"Enough of that." The guard pointed to a line of necromancers along the wall of the palace. "See them? Every single one of them has a story about how they saw the prisoners. Saw them in the forest. Saw them near the outskirts of town. Saw them in a tree. Hah. They're all like bloody Clayr. Seeing what they want to see. And from the looks of it, you're no different."  
  
"But I'm telling the truth-"  
  
""Course you are. You and the rest of this filthy lot. Now go and wait with everyone else."  
  
Erithae was fighting back her wicked temper. If only her weapons hadn't been taken away. She could see them sitting comfortably behind another guard. She tired one last time.  
  
"Please, I know things that could save their lives. Just let me talk to the King for a moment. That's all I need."  
  
The guard prodded her with his spear.  
  
"I'm warning you," he snarled "For the last time."  
  
"It wouldn't take very long, I promise you-"  
  
"GO NOW!"  
  
"But-"  
  
The guard flicked his spear across Erithae's face. The hall that had been buzzing with quiet murmurs a second before went completely silent.  
  
Erithae ran her fingertips slowly over her smarting cheek. They came away red. She snarled, her eyes wild with anger.  
  
"You shall pay for that, heathen!" she roared, lunging at the guard. It never took much to snap Erithaes' temper into a rage. Her fist did connect with the guards' nose, but that was the only blow she dealt him. At least five pairs of strong arms were suddenly there, holding her back. She tried kicking out at them, and struggling to get free, but it was to no avail. The guard she had tried to tackle wiped blood off his face.  
  
"And you shall pay for that, you pile of scum! Take her to the dungeons. We'll deal with her when we can."  
  
Erithae squirmed around frantically. Her fury had vanished and had been replaced with remorse. She was cursing herself for going ballistic. Why did she always have to do that?  
  
"No! Their lives are at stake! Please! Don't do this to me!"  
  
"Are you pleading for them or for you?" the guard sneered. "Take her away."  
  
Erithae was still trying to resist her captors.  
  
"You've got to understand! Please! I would not lie to any of you! I know where they are! They're in Death! Death! Chlorr will kill them if you don't listen to me! Please!"  
  
The guard snickered as Erithae was dragged out of the hall, still shouting.  
  
"In Death." He chuckled to himself. "Preposterous. How could they be-"  
  
He felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
Whirling around, the guard saw King Touchstone the First standing behind him. He began to bow, but Touchstone stopped him. "None of that now," he said. "Just bring that girl to me."  
  
  
  
Erithae sat nervously in a large high-backed chair in the royal study. The King was slowly pacing in front of the window.  
  
"So you say that they have been traveling in Death," he said, almost to himself. "That does explain many things that have been puzzling us. But only your spirit goes into Death. Your body stays behind."  
  
"Chlorr had three Dead Hands carrying the bodies, your Majesty," said Erithae shakily. She was incredibly nervous. This was the King she was talking to. Not just some petty employer looking for her to conjure up a few Dead.  
  
"Three, you say?" said Touchstone, turning towards her. "I've heard several reports of three rogue Dead roaming the countryside, but they always disappear before they can be examined. Always going North, or so I've been told."  
  
He paused for a moment, looking out over the damaged city.  
  
"I thought nothing like this would - or could - ever happen again," he said grimly. He sounded very weary, at least to Erithae. "I thought that my people would no longer have to live in fear of another catastrophe. But evil will always rise, or so it seems."  
  
Erithae looked down at her feet, trying to think of something she could say. Something comforting. But nothing came. Touchstone sighed deeply and turned back to her.  
  
"How far away were they, exactly?"  
  
"If you're talking about from Belisaere, your Majesty, it was at least two days. That is how long it took me to ride from that point to here. And they were about one day from Aunden, which is where I set out from. If that helps..."  
  
"Yes, it does." Said Touchstone briskly, "Every scrap of information we gain is useful in one way or another." He was busy making marks on a huge map laid out on the desk in front of him, taking note of the coordinates Erithae had supplied. A hash on Aunden, an arrow from Belisaere, dotted lines down the Ratterlin..  
  
"Your Majesty," said Erithae quietly, for she did not want to intrude on what he was doing, "If you don't mind my asking, how is the Abhorsens' health?"  
  
"She'll be..all right.." he said, not looking up. "Burns, broken limbs...nothing the Charter isn't able to heal. But..."  
  
He paused.  
  
"Sam.." he whispered, "I...I don't want to know what she has been doing to him..."  
  
"Oh," said Erithae, rather taken aback, "Oh. Your son. And..the others..well, er, when I...when I saw them, they appeared to be unharmed..although.."  
  
"What?" said Touchstone, his voice tinged with nervous anxiety, "What happened?"  
  
"The one boy..the tall blonde one...he..he got struck in the face. And the other one, with brown hair...he was held underwater...that was how Chlorr forced the other two to come back to her...and...oh, I didn't mean to..I'm so sorry.."  
  
Erithae noticed how much Touchstone's face had fallen. She gnawed on her bottom lip uneasily. He shook his head, and then met eyes with her.  
  
"I expected this," he said blankly, "I expected her to..to torture them..but still.." he put his hand to his forehead, unable to find words to describe the anguish he felt. Erithae did not say anything in return, out of sympathy. It was silent in the study for a period of time, until Touchstone looked up again.  
  
"Right," he said stiffly, clearing his throat. "Your name again, please?"  
  
"Erithae, your Majesty."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Erithae, yes. I am sending you."  
  
Erithae was caught completely off guard.  
  
"Wha...what, your Majesty?"  
  
"You shall be the one who retrieves the prisoners from Chlorr of the Mask"  
  
He strode over and put a hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture.  
  
"There's something there, Erithae," he said, "I feel I know that everything you have told me is not a lie. It is the most believable account of events I have heard in a long time. You aren't as corrupted by Free Magic as some of the other Necromancers here. You're still intelligent, still human. I would trust you with Sameth and Nick and Lirael. And you, so far, have been the only necromancer here with the gusto to attack a royal guard. If you can do that, then Chlorr should be a minor obstacle."  
  
Erithae smiled. She had gotten what she came here for, and felt very proud to have done so. She was about to say something about how she promised to bring them back alive and how honored she was when the doors were slammed open.  
  
A worn-out guard gasping for breath staggered to the middle of the room. He gave a lopsided bow.  
  
"Your majesty, terrible news."  
  
Touchstone's eyes narrowed.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"We've just received word that the Clayr's glacier has been flooded. There are hardly any survivors. It's ruin." 


	6. The Glacier

Chapter 5  
  
Four thousand twenty-eight, four thousand twenty-nine, four thousand thirty.  
  
'Oh what does it matter?' thought Lirael bitterly. She had started counting her steps, reverting back to an ancient habit, at least three hours ago. Or what seemed like three hours ago. Lirael could never be certain of the time in Death. It flowed differently here than in the living world. She was pondering why this might happen (in a desperate attempt to keep her mind off of reality) when the entire company came to an abrupt stop. Lirael nearly tripped it was so sudden, though the Dead Hand clinging to her shoulders did not help her balance.  
  
It appeared that Chlorr was silently surveying the spot. She was standing very still, arms to her sides. After a moment or two, Chlorr nodded to herself. A small speck of light appeared in front of her and steadily grew, soon engulfing the entire group in intense brightness. Lirael found herself in her human body once more, breathing in the rancid stench of the creature that had been carrying her. She was very cold, and her teeth started to chatter wildly. It was practically a blizzard where they had emerged, and coupled with the fact that ice envelops whoever travels into Death, Lirael was surprised she hadn't already collapsed from the freezing temperatures. She stole a glance back at Sam and Nick, and instantly noticed that they both looked much older, for their hair and eyebrows were completely white, covered with snow. Lirael guessed that she wasn't much better off, and sure enough, when she tried furrowing her brows, she had a hard time of it and eventually heard the faint cracking of a thin sheet of ice. Chlorr was shouting something, but Lirael could not understand a word, until, unexpectedly, the Dead Hand behind her cut the ropes binding her arms. She quickly hugged them around herself to try and keep in any warmth, but within a moment she was holding her hands up in front of her face, horrorstruck. They were tinged with a sickly blue, and had had large black splotches in some places. It was from the cold, Lirael knew, but it was still rather shocking. She wondered how much else of her looked like this.  
  
There was a large creaking sound up ahead. Lirael looked up. Chlorr was forcing a giant door that was built into the mountainside to open with Free Magic. Lirael squinted hard.  
  
She knew that door.  
  
It led directly to the Lower Refectory. But it couldn't be. Why would they be breaking into the Clayr's Glacier? Why-  
  
Lirael's thoughts were cut short as she was forced to march forward. It seemed as if the Dead Hands attending to Sam and Nick had sped up a bit, because within a matter of seconds they were both at her side.  
  
"What is that dirty necromancer think she's doing?" spat Nick, his words greatly obscured by severely chattering teeth. Lirael noticed that his skin was so blue it almost matched his eyes, "Dragging us through freezing temperatures to some unknown place? It's idiotic!"  
  
"This place isn't unknown to the people of the Old Kingdom," said Sam, glancing at Lirael. She nodded, but did not speak. Sam continued.  
  
"This is the Clayr's Glacier."  
  
A look of comprehension passed over Nick's face, followed by alarm.  
  
"But you've said..Lirael's said...the Clayr are against Free Magic. Why is she-"  
  
"She's done something," whispered Lirael, "I know she's done something.."  
  
They were very close to the doors now.  
  
"But what would Chlorr want here?" asked Nick, repressing a particularly large shiver.  
  
"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Sam, "The Clayr have the Sight. Chlorr probably wants to see some event that happens in the future."  
  
"But there's no way a necromancer could convince the Clayr."  
  
"What if the necromancer had hostages?" said Sam darkly. Nick did not say anything else.  
  
Lirael felt her insides began to writhe. She knew that something beyond her worst fears lay just up ahead. She could sense the slightest tinge of death on the air. Recent death. Her footsteps were nearing the threshold. Lirael almost wanted to close her eyes; to escape from what she knew awaited her. Se did not want to see the Clayr dead. They had cared for her. Sheltered her. And even though it was mixed with that of the Abhorsen, their blood coursed through her veins. But it was too late for her to look away. As if in a dream, Lirael watched her feet step from snow covered earth to sodden carpet. The sound of biting wind echoed through the ruined hall. Throughout the fallen columns, and the rubble, lay the bodies of many women. There were the old, and there were the young. Some of their eyes still were open, awake yet without life. Lirael felt despair wash over her like a wave. It was relentless, tearing at her. Her legs began to tremble, and she fell to her knees, unable to cry, unable to speak. She stared out at the massacre, pure terror in her gaze. No. It can't be.. She looked wildly around, as if the answer would somehow show itself. And then she froze. She was staring at a Clayr, her white robes dirty and smeared with blood. Her hair covered her face, but Lirael still knew her. She knew her stature. She knew every ring that adorned her fingers. She would have known the booming voice, had she spoken.  
  
It was Kirrith.  
  
Lirael began to crawl to her, silent tears beginning to stream down her face. None of it was happening. It couldn't be. Lireal's fingertips grazed across Kirriths' icy cheek. Her spirit was slipping away. It was still there, but barely. Like the flame of a candle that is about to go out.  
  
Kirriths' eyelids flickered, and slowly the opened. They began to mist over as Lirael's face once more bloomed in front of her.  
  
"Lirael," she whispered, "Lirael.."  
  
Lirael could not find the words. The tears stung as they poured out of her eyes.  
  
"You..you came back.."  
  
The edges of Kirriths' mouth moved as she tried to smile. Lirael buried her head in her aunts' shoulder, shaking. And then, Kirrith was gone.  
  
There was no sound.  
  
Lirael turned, still on her knees. Everyone had stopped. They were watching her. The only one she saw, though, was Chlorr. What passed for her face seemed as if it was somehow mocking her, taking vile pleasure in her pain. She was responsible for this. This murder. Without thinking, Lirael began, in her mind, to string together Charter Marks. Master marks. The false skin on her hand peeled off in a flurry of magic, revealing the gold that lay underneath it.  
  
No one had any time to react.  
  
A blinding flash of light tore throughout the hall. The moans of the Dead were earsplitting as their temporary bodies were transformed into dust. Nick and Sam barely saved themselves, slightly singed as they both dove behind a pile of rubble. And then, as soon as it begun, the spell ended. Sam peered out from their shelter.  
  
"We've got to go, Nick," he said, a slight note of urgency in his voice, "The Dead are beginning to see that there are bodies everywhere. We have to go somewhere they won't be able to find us."  
  
"What happened to Chlorr?" Nick asked, nodding to show he understood all of what Sam had just said.  
  
"I don't know, but that's not important right now. Get Lirael, and then we'll go through that open spot."  
  
The two readied themselves, and then Sam shouted,  
  
"NOW!"  
  
They darted across the hall, Nick stopping to delicately hoist Lirael into his arms. Then they were gone, leaving their captors behind.  
  
"Let us begin!" Sanar and Ryelle shouted to the gathered Clayr.  
  
"Let us begin!"  
  
Lirael could hear their voices, could see them, but it was all as if it was coming through a fog.  
  
"Let us See!" cried Sanar and Ryelle, their ivory wands clashing together.  
  
And then Charter marks were everywhere, traveling up every body, illuminating the walls. Swirling, moving to the ceiling, where they met in a sea of gold. The Clayrs' arms were raised to the sky.  
  
"Look," whispered Ryelle, suddenly holding a green bottle.  
  
"Learn," said Sanar, waving her wand in swift, careful motions above Lirael's head.  
  
And then without warning, Ryelle threw the contents of the bottle at Lirael. She screamed. That was how she awoke.  
  
She did not even try to stop the crying. Lirael buried her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. She knew that her memory was possibly the last Watch that would ever happen. The Clayr were destroyed. The future was clouded.  
  
Lirael did not know how long she stayed like that; thinking only dark thoughts, believing that hope had never existed. But ever so slowly, her mind started to rebel against the grief.  
  
No. You must go on. Push back the sorrow. Block out the pain. Weep for them later. Now is not the time.  
  
And although Lirael's eyes were still brimming with tears, bit by bit she began to recompose herself. She forced the misery to retreat, deep into the place it would lay hidden until she could reopen the wound. She started to asses her surrounding. To her astonishment, she found that she recognized them. These were the chambers of the Chief Librarian. There was no mistaking the size of the bed on which she sat, or the massive window that was now broken. She recalled everything so well, so vividly. And suddenly images of the Clayr flooded into her mind. Lirael gave a choking moan and began to pound on her head, trying to banish what she had so desperately been trying to forget. They wouldn't leave. Already she was howling. She felt the wild cries welling up inside of her, ready to break out-  
  
And then, the madness had passed. Lirael could feel firm hands on both her shoulders, hear her name being called. Lirael looked up and found herself staring into the very worried eyes of Nick. She could see the emotions running under the brilliant blue.  
  
"Lirael?" he whispered, as if hesitant to speak to her, "Lirael? Are you all right?"  
  
Lirael tried to reply, but the words stung her Charter-burned throat. All she could manage was a mangled "Yes." Nick didn't seem to be entirely content with this answer, though he brought his hands down.  
  
"I'm glad to see you're awake," he said, sitting down next to her, "Sam and I thought that it would take much longer. That was some amazingly powerful magic you used out there, and I'm surprised you recovered so quickly."  
  
Lirael, eyes closed, nodded faintly to show she understood. She could not bring herself to look at him. The color of his eyes was shared with too many Clayr, and she was once again trying to repress all thoughts of them.  
  
Nick wasn't exactly sure of what to say. The situation was familiar, certainly, but all of his thoughts of the previous time seemed to have left him. He had never been good around those who had lost someone. He just sort of sat there, willing to offer an embrace and perhaps some clumsy words of comfort. But maybe that was all she needed. Nick bit his lip. If only he knew what hesitant words to say.  
  
"You're positive you're all right?" he said, unable to come up with anything else.  
  
Lirael felt as if she had recovered enough. She willed herself to look at Nick, almost like a test. She found she couldn't take her eyes away. She had never been this close to his face before. She just stared at him, mouth slightly ajar. Neither of them moved, both stunned by the other. They were so close, so very close..  
  
Sam almost fell into the room, clutching the doorway for support. He looked very frightened and pale, and was pointing a shaking finger towards the hallway.  
  
"Something.." he stammered, "Something's coming.."  
  
Lirael and Nick were both on their feet now, having pulled apart as soon as Sam had entered. It seemed as if nothing had happened between them.  
  
"We should go deeper in" said Nick, bounding to the doorway to see if he could see whatever Sam was talking about, "They won't be able to find us if they don't know they're way around."  
  
His head turned back to Lirael before he stuck it out into the hall. "You're leading."  
  
Lirael tried to reply, but Sam interrupted her.  
  
"It's not them," he said desperately, "I don't know what it is. It's..it's massive.."  
  
"Oh.." said Nick meekly, sliding back in looking very scared himself, "That..that is..what is that?"  
  
There was the sound of a sword being pulled from a scabbard. Nick and Sam immediately hunted for the source, and were astonished to see Lirael clutching the hilt of a massive weapon.  
  
"Where did you get that?" asked Nick, sounding jealous and impressed at the same time. He kept glancing nervously out of the door.  
  
Lirael lifted the sword to a more elegant position. So it no longer resisted her touch.  
  
"This is Binder," she said, "Sister of Nehima. It's an ancient blade, made by the Wallmakers. We'll need something like this."  
  
She extended her arm, using Binder to emphasize her words. All the memories of the Clayr had been buried. Tears would no longer pour from her eyes. She was stronger than that.  
  
"We go," she said, "to the Great Library of the Clayr."  
  
Authors' Note: And so ends Chapter Six (technically Chapter Five, if you don't count the epilogue). It's a bit rushed, I know, but it's better than it once was. I completely rewrote it to get it somewhere where I actually thought it was decent. Perhaps I'll make it better one day, but for now, since I haven't updated in a very long time, I think it's important that the story moves along. I'm sure a lot of you Lirael/Nick people probably hate Sam right now. He just had to come in and ruin a "romantic moment." And as for the thing that's out in the hallway, well, I'll just tell you it's a creature that I found in the books. That's all for now. I have to begin on Chapter 7! I'd like to thank everyone for the reviews (I love reviews, and to CrystalDragonfly: Hope the periods work) and hope that you keep sending them! Thanks a bunch! 


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